Chapter 2995: Frost Domain: Glacier Fever

Date: Unspecified

Time: Unspecified

Location: Myriad Realms, Dark Realm, Gelid Alps, Snow Elven Region, High Snow District, Boundary Ward

"You are hardly one to talk!" the Elven Crown Prince snapped back, his voice ragged but dripping with centuries of ingrained elven supremacy. "Who did you sell yourself and your race out to this time for your current power and to rebel against your enslaved race’s actual benefactors? If not for us, your kind wouldn’t even exist to complain. Because of us you were able to reproduce like bunnies and grow your numbers instead of racing toward absolute extinction, most of your people having been hunted down and killed by bored masters across the Dark Realm! We gave you a sanctuary. We gave you purpose!"

While his mouth poured out arrogant justification, my Soul Pupils watched his internal divinity frantically shifting. The Prince was secretly trying to dismantle the Fleeting Youth curse. With that terrifying curse holding his cells back, he couldn’t unleash his full Ruler-class prowess without literally turning himself into a pile of dust. He was stalling, desperately trying to buy enough seconds to neutralize the curse’s core logic.

Yet, even beneath his panic, a sick, twisted fascination began to warp his features.

Ruler-class curse users were incredibly rare in the Dark Realm. For one to suddenly appear within the Frosling race didn’t make him despair—it made him giddy. To his mad scientist’s mind, my very existence was the ultimate proof that he had been right the whole time.

If a mere Frosling—whom the world viewed as a poor, unfinished imitation of what the snow elven race could achieve—could manifest a power this devastating, it meant the celestial Forsell’s Blessing possessed untapped heights he or remain Froslings hadn’t even begun to map out. Between the rogue powerhouse standing before him and the thousand semi-demigod half-bloods currently tearing up his capital, his grand theory of genetic ascension had just been vindicated on a massive scale.

He didn’t just see an enemy anymore. He saw the proof of what his life’s work was based on.

Though the Crown Prince was vastly more open-minded than his rigid, tradition-bound father, he too could never truly accept the perfect half-bloods as part of the Snow Elven race. To him, they were just incredibly useful tools.

His true, ultimate goal was much more insidious: he wanted to use these perfect half-bloods to breed a new generation of pure-blooded Snow Elves who inherently possessed the blessing of the Frosell Realm. For millennia, he had poured his soul into the vaults, running countless trials, but there hadn’t been a single successful case.

He didn’t actually care if there were faint, residual traces of the Frosling bloodline left in the sequence. He was pragmatic enough to overlook minor contamination, as long as the Snow Elven bloodline remained overwhelmingly dominant while seamlessly incorporating the celestial blessing of the Frosell Realm.

However, nature refused to bend to his madness. In all the perfect half-bloods he had created, the two bloodlines co-existed in an absolute, peaceful equilibrium. Neither bloodline would submit to the other; neither would become the dominant force.

Which was precisely why he had never considered the perfect half-bloods a true success. To the rest of the empire, they were an army of terrifying, semi-demigod weapons. To him, they were just an expensive, high-tier stepping stone toward his ultimate masterpiece.

"One thousand Curse Fields!" I chanted, my voice echoing like a death knell across the desolate snowy plains.

With a sweeping motion of my hand, a suffocating, pitch-black miasma erupted from my primordial spirit. It stretched out instantly, warping the fabric of reality and dragging the Elven Crown Prince deep into its depths, completely defeating all his frantic, desperate struggles to break away.

The air within the fields turned heavy, thick with the phantom screams of my curse incarnations. I looked down at him from the center of the dark vortex, my expression completely detached.

"Stall all you want," I said, my voice carrying a terrifying weight. "I have more than a thousand of these Ruler-class curses, each one deadlier than the last. There is no way you leave here alive today."

"Hmph!" the Prince snorted, refusing to let his royal pride break even under the weight of a thousand curses.

Desperation mixed with his madness as he forced his divinity to flare. Thick, black frost began to rapidly cover his skin and armor, spreading outward in violent, jagged waves that froze the very atmosphere into brittle glass.

"Frost Domain: Glacier Fever!" he roared.

The space around him violently expanded as a localized, near absolute-zero blizzard tried to force my miasma back. It was a domain designed to freeze the very concept of energy, chilling its victims until their thoughts, magic, and souls turned into a part of a glacier statue and shattered into dust.

However, the Prince’s proud face instantly crumbled.

Instead of shattering under the near absolute-zero temperature, the thousand curse fields remained unaffected by the freezing shockwave. Their dark, corrosive script humming in tandem with the pure curse energy I extracted from primordial energy backing them. The domain couldn’t pierce the sheer volume of the hexes, and the black frost was systematically eaten away by the decaying miasma as fast as it could spread.

"Impossible..." the Prince gasped, his eyes wide with horror as he realized his supreme Ruler-class domain was being utterly suppressed. "Glacier Fever is absolute!"

I chuckled, the sound echoing hollowly within the dark boundaries of the miasma. The Prince’s shock was entirely justified. By all conventional logic, even a thousand standard Ruler-class curses should have shattered or frozen solid when directly colliding with an apex-tier domain like Glacier Fever, comprehended from one of the thirteen deadly zones in the Dark Realm.

Unfortunately for him, he was calculating based on a reality that didn’t apply to me.

These were no ordinary, isolated Ruler-class curses. They were Ruler-class curse incarnations, born from the profound synergy of my Primordial Ethereal Spirits and ruler-class curses through my cursed bloodline.

As products of my bloodline, they naturally inherited Forsell’s Blessing, the celestial grace I had gained from the Cursed Bloodline.

In other words, my curse incarnations possessed the very same celestial grace that protected the Froslings and the prince himself. Glacier Fever held no power over them.

Against anyone else, the prince’s confidence would have been completely justified. His strategy was flawless, his advantage absolute.

He simply had the extraordinary misfortune of facing the one opponent against whom it meant nothing.

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